Rogue Agent
by HaraKyri
Summary: A new corporation which deals in operating on past Agents is on the hunt. Using a chemically enhanced cowboy to capture one of the Leagues own. Can he be saved before it's too late?
1. Default Chapter

Clear green eyes swept down the London alley swiftly. The usual dank and dirty backstreet littered with trashcans and loose cobbles remained still and silent. It was dark and gloomy as the moon couldn't stretch down the alley due to the looming buildings next to it. The eyes blinked slowly in exasperation, why was it that killers, thieves and all other do-badders hid down here? Did they think that no-one would suspect them to hide here? A scraggy cat yowled further along and scittered down the alley, keeping close to the wall. Nothing else moved.

Flicking his blonde bangs out of his eyes Tom Sawyer dismissed the alleyway as empty. There was, after all, probably another few hundred for the criminal to hide down. Hefting his valued rifle onto his shoulder Agent Tom Sawyer carried on his mission to the next alley to check if anything was there.

On the rooftop above the American sat a figure. He crouched down low so that his black trenchcoat dipped in the mid afternoon rain in London. His face was covered by a black cowboy hat that was angled forward. He watched the youngest league member thoughtfully. Earlier on he had stolen a few diamonds from the bank, not subtly either. He had walked straight up to the vault, shooting everyone behind him with his curious gray handled Winchester. He hadn't stolen too much, just enough so the London police thought he was dangerous enough to call up the League.

The League had answered immediatley, they arrived on the scene in way of a big entrance. The half-vampiress Mina Harker walked through the bank doors first, flanked by the young spy with his marvellous rifle. Behind them walked the regal Indian, the Captain of that wonderful machine Nautilus. Next to him was the doctor Jekyll and his counterpart somewhere inside.

The four walked into the room and stopped in the centre, they were obviously practiced at the whole looking professional gig. The door opened a final time and a floating trench coat and trilby walked in, the invisible man. Sawyer gave the man a nod and set to questioning the chief inspector. The rest searched the room for clues.

The man had disguised himself as one of the police officers and watched everything from a front seat view, his eyes kept returning to the Agent in the centre though.

"What weapon would you say the intruder carried?" Sawyer asked, as if everything was procedure. The Chief looked thoughtful then pointed to the rifle on Sawyer's shoulder.

"Like that, yeh, it was the same as the one on your shoulder. Was a bit more grey in colour though." Sawyer didn't reply. The man had chuckled at that point, he knew only the American secret service supplied modified Winchesters. For he had once been part of that service. Hearing what he had wanted, the man had walked out the building and almost made it until the cursed Vampire had recognised his scent as the one of the "intruder."

Things turned hectic, he tore off in the direction of London's underworld, darting through the alleys as the League raced to catch him. He felt the Vampire bats behind him and ducked swiftly into the nearest doorway, blending himself into the wall as the bats flew past. He turned and darted down another alley as he heard the roar, unmistakebly that monster Hyde.

He knew the beast would be able to follow his scent so with some quick thinking he buried himself in a nearby trashcan, trying to still his racing heartbeat as the monster grunted past. Once he was sure that Hyde couldn't hear him he let out a splurg of disgust - the reek of the rubbish was enough to make him retch. The monster might not be able to track his smell now, but with this layer of filth covering him, anyone else would smell him from a mile away.

Pulling himself up out of the trash can, the American cast away his police jacket. The two main worries were out of his way for the time being, both having lost his scent. No doubt they would find him again, just after he had finished what he came out here to do.

The man had retreated to the rooftops, retrieving his precious rifle and redressing in his coybow get up before he went in search for his target. He heard him before he saw him, talking with another member of the League. The cowboy followed the Cockney accent and the more familiar South American drawl and sure enough, saw his target. The two men were having a conversation. Using unnatural agility the cowboy vaulted across the expanse between two buildings, not once making a sound. He listened closely to the conversation.

"I don' get it! Why would a secret service Agent rob a bank?" Sawyer said in frustration. The floating jacket lifted his arm in reasoning.

"Perhaps he was short on cash? That's why most people take to robbin banks." Sawyer shook his head,

"So why did he stay behind afterwards? Disguise himself as an officer?" The man chuckled lightly, the Agent wasn't stupid.

"Dunno, praps he felt like doing a Tom Sawyer, impersonating someone else, he'll be offering us a gun next." The invisible man gave a chuckle of his own. Sawyer growled.

"This is different Skinner! I was trying to help you." The jacket now lifted his hands in a surrender motion.

"Never said you wasn't Tom, No disrespect meant. But, don't you think we should go find the bugger and get the answers ourselves?" Skinner suggested. The agent nodded his head,

"You're right, You go left. Meet back at the Nautilus in an hour if you haven't found anything." The hat nodded and they walked off in separate directions. The cowboy smiled then followed his target.

Which led him here. Crouched on top of a dilapidated building, watching Sawyer investigate each alley, certain each one held the criminal. The cowboy grew bored of this waiting. He sensed that the beast and the vampiress were too far away to hear any scuffle, or screams. It was time. Standing tall, the cowboy walked off the roof.

Agent Tom Sawyer sighed, he had half an hour left to return to the Nautilus and already had no luck in finding evidence of the criminal's existence. He knew he should have chosen the way Skinner had gone, maybe then he would have had some action…

Tom's ears pricked up as he heard a billowing sound, then he turned up his nose in disgust – something stunk! He turned around slowly and saw a tall man standing where there was nothing earlier. The man wore a black trench coat that swept around his boots, hiding his black shirt and pants underneath. A dark cowboy hat perched on his head, covering his face and hiding black curly hair. He stood in a cocky stance, much like Sawyer did - when he was feeling triumphant at something. An American Winchester was balanced on the shoulder of the man, the handle a dark grey instead of the light brown of Sawyers own.

Tom studied the man carefully, recognising the outfit to be a mutated form of the Secret Service Uniform. Tom didn't follow the code properly either though, choosing to wear his clothes slack rather than the regulated stiff dress code. This man in front must work for the Secret Service. Since he had not made any move Tom decided to speak first.

"Why did you steal from the bank?" There was no cliché "who are you" questions, Tom didn't care who the man was, just his motives. The man laughed, a deep grizzle that made the hairs stand up on the back of Tom's neck.

"Why do you care Agent Sawyer? You are not losing anything from the theft." Sawyer growled, he hoisted the rifle off his shoulder and pointed at the man, finger pressing gently on the trigger.

"You didn't answer my question." It did not worry him that the man knew his name, the League were practically famous.

"And you did not answer mine." The American replied, he too took the gun off his shoulder and pointed it at the other.

"Fine. I care because what you did was wrong. You shot innocent people, that is not something a Secret Service Agent would do." The man lifted his head, revealing his mouth, it was curved up in a smile.

"I see you recognise my weapon, probably my clothes as well. Yet I am not a Secret Service Agent – Not anymore. I see you do not recognise who I am. Otherwise you would not eagerly point your weapon at me."

"How should I know who you are. I just care about what you did tonight!" Tom spat.

"You never change, do you Tom? But I can't help but wonder, where is your partner? Surely you wouldn't have let your good pal Huckleberry Finn die?" At Tom's silence the man continued. "Ah, I see that you did. Maybe you did change, the Agent Sawyer I heard about would have never let his friend die."

"Shut up!" Tom yelled. "Who are you anyway!" He was riled up, he felt enough guilt for Huck's death, this man was no-one to speak like that, whoever he was. The man chuckled, a low sound which sounded almost like a growl.

"I'm just an Agent, here to do my mission from my new employer, and before you ask me. My mission is a little search and capture one." Tom kept silent again, he wasn't sure he liked where this was headed. After a minute when the man didn't say anymore he took it as his cue to ask the question, to which he already knew the answer. Tom swallowed.

"So, why did you come and find me?" The Winchester pointed at him waved a little, indicating the answer.

"Because Tom Sawyer. My new employer wants rogue Agents under his rule,"

"I'm not a rogue Agen-" Tom couldn't finish his statement as the man suddenly leapt forward. Tom pulled the trigger of his Winchester by reflex, shooting the man. He stopped mid-flight and fell to the ground. Tom nudged the body with the toe of his boot. The man didn't move. Grimacing, Tom stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. His call to the others that could hear him, they would have probably heard the gun shot first anyway.

Tom listened to the wind, no replying whistle sounded, no pounding of Hyde's feet or flutter of Mina's bats. He was out of range.

"Nemo really should think of something to call than this." Tom groaned, looking again at the downed man. Only, he wasn't downed. He wasn't there at all!

Whirling around Tom stared for where the man could have gone, instincts set on high gear and senses pricked for anything. A hand came down upon the back of Tom's neck and his nerves set alight with agony. He cried out and fell to the floor, unconscious.

The man returned the favour, nudging Tom's unmoving body with his own toe. Not too gently either. He chuckled and bent down to pick the body up, hearing Tom's laboured breathing and grabbing his gun he hefted the League member onto his shoulder. With Tom firmly set the man performed an impossible leap to the building above, not noticing as one of Tom's colts fell out the holster and to the floor below.

A few minutes later after the cowboy had escaped with Tom a lone whistle echoed through the night and a roar charged down the alleys.

* * *

_  
I Hope to continue this as soon as possible, LXG is just so brilliant, especially Shane West as Tom Sawyer!_

_Please Review!_


	2. Chapter II

**Rogue Agent. Chapter 2**

_wow, so many reviews. I'm going to do something I've never tried before and comment on them all, because its fun!_

_**Sawyer Fan – **I read your review and thought "your right" So, your wish has been granted, I hope it has been done ok. Btw I love your stuff!_

_**Ten Mara – **I enjoyed writing that comment, I thought it would be fun for Skinner to make fun of him once in a while. I'm so glad you like this!_

_**Laura B- **Definitely the best looking! Although, Stuart Townsend takes a close second, I can't resist guys with long hair :P_

_**Faust – **No one else is hot enough to play Tom Sawyer! I'm glad you like, as well._

_**Woodyfan1016 – **I'm glad you like, here's the update!_

_**Little Wing- **Thanks for the review! Yay you said I have quality! Thanks for telling me about the accent thing, I'm going to change it right now! This chapter is a little longer, I just hope its as ok._

_**LotRseer3350 – **Thank you! Heres the update! _

_**Tonianne – **wow, thank you! I feel so happy that you loved it. And, Shane is definitely the best for Tom Sawyer!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own LXG or anything associated with it. I only own the characters you have never heard of before._

_

* * *

_  
It was a blistering hot day, as it usually was in a hot sandy place such as Kenya. The sun shimmered down above the desert village, burning and making the little Kenyan's sweat in their busy days.

A large white stone building sat on the edge of village. Where it had been reconstructed since the fateful bomb, which had robbed many of their friends. Yet had motivated legend Allan Quatermain and thus saved the world.

The hunter himself was currently lounging in a chair sipping a glass of water. Across from the building his grave sat empty. It wasn't always so, he had been dead in the grave for a few days. His friend the Witchdoctor had remained true to his promise and somehow resurrected the hunter. Allan wished the Witchdoctor had the full healing power, when he had been brought back there was still the whole matter of healing the gaping hole in his shoulder. It had deterred him from contacting the League to inform them of his resurrection. It was his foolish pride, not wanting to let them see how old age slows his healing process. Back when he was young and spry, a knife in the back would have had Allan Quatermain down for a week, two at the most…Not months certainly. Now, when his bones protested the battles and his eyes struggled to read anything without his glasses, Quatermain realised the need to relax, spend his last years in the comforting presence of his friends…When he recovered that's all.

A tap on the shoulder brought Allan out of his musings.

"Mr Quatermain? Mr Quatermain?" A portly man was crouching beside his lounge chair. Allan shook his head a little, as if to rid the elderly thoughts.

"What?" He answered gruffly, slightly annoyed at being interrupted. The man stood back, allowing Allan a good look at him.

He wore a pinstriped black suit, with a smart bow tie at the collar, his slick black hair was hidden by a hat not unlike Sawyers. In his left hand was what drew Allan's attention to the most. An American rifle.

"Mr Quatermain sir, my name is Simon Draven. I am a representative of the International Negotiations and Law-" Allan cut him off.

"I don't want any bloody thing to do with you! Get out of my sight." Draven started at the rough tone of Quatermain's voice, he had been told to expect a harsh greeting but this was beyond his expectations… Still, he'd been told what to do in this situation. With a small cough Draven asked him.

"Tell me Mr Quatermain, Is that wound bothering you enough that you cannot travel?" Allan grimaced and rubbed his shoulder almost unconsciously. He knew he should have at least contacted the League to let them know of his resurrected fate, and that he was recovering. He would have done, if not for foolish pride.

He hated weakness in himself, especially old age, as there is nothing to reverse it. Back when he was young and spry he could have taken a knife in the back and been back on the go within a fortnight at the latest, now? Now, he was bedridden for a month since his blood pressure dropped. He still didn't want to admit it to himself, let alone the League that old age almost had Allan Quatermain beaten.

Draven studied Allan, he watched the reaction and guilt spread across the hunters face, then he continued.

"Of course you may need a while longer to recooperate, but, there is a new threat out there." Allan interrupted him,

"When is there never a new bloody threat!" He barked. He received a narrow glance in return.

"Ahem, as I was saying, this new threat may affect the League more than you think…Especially since you allowed the renegade American to join you." Draven finished with contempt, leaving Allan silent for a moment.

Quatermain's mind wasn't as slow as his body was becoming. Renegade American? Sawyer? He felt the blood course through his veins a little faster at the thought of his protégé in danger. During their adventures he had felt a strange connection with the boy. Different from the others, a fatherly protectiveness and a growing unwillingness to put him into danger. It was his decision, after all, to let Tom join them at all.

"Sawyer? Is he being threatened? Speak man!" Allan shouted in frustration when he found his voice, his paternal instincts taking charge. Draven showed no outward reaction other than a slight upturn of the lips and a raised eyebrow.

"Apparently, a quiet organisation has been tracing down past Secret Service Agents and employing them. We have a little information on a "Taylor" fellow who was let go from the Service a few years past on account of being too "ruthless". Now, I imagine he must have been bad considering he worked for a company who killed people." Draven told him.

"What has this got to do with Sawyer!" Allan demanded.

"Well, since you invited him along with you on your little save the world mission he decided he liked the League better than the Service. He sent a message back to his supervisor asking to remain stationed with the League - as an American representative. His request was rejected, but, as a true example of stubborn Americanism the boy ignored his summons home and remained with them. He has since been written down as a "Rogue Agent." He is no longer affiliated with America, nor allowed on her soil again."

"That's harsh! Sawyer loves his country! He helped save the damn world for crying out loud. Then they banish him? He's probably better off with the League anyways… Does he know of the banishment?" Allan stormed, fists clenching at the unfairness the boys homeland showed against him. Draven rolled his eyes.

"We are getting off track. No Sawyer does not know of the banishment, nor does he need to. America will offer him amnesty if he helps stop the organisation. But, we are more worried about him joining it." That sent Allan off, his eyes showed cold fury.

"Sawyer shouldn't need to work for them to get back into his own country! And who do you think you are kidding, thinking he will join this organisation. He has morals, and a good heart. Even though his country abandoned him, he will not abandon them!" Allan told him harshly. Draven studied the hunters eyes closely, then said the following sentence slowly, as if afraid that it might set the hunter off again.

"Careful Mr Quatermain, your blood pressure. We do not think that these Agents are joining of their own free will, nor do we think they are now acting of such. They are being forced. Even Taylor, as ruthless as he was, would not commit heinous crimes such as he is now.

Many banks have been robbed. Young children, tortured and killed. Women are being raped daily and men are slaughtered brutally. He possesses an unnatural strength, he cannot be stopped. Worse still, he is not the only one. Otherwise we would have supposed insanity and not called you into this. Many Ex Agents are joining him in these inhumane acts, possessing the same powers. This organisation is increasing, and we fear soon may be unstoppable. Young Agent Sawyer is a prime target for them and he needs your help, to eradicate this organisation before it gets more out of hand. Are you willing to aid us Mr Quatermain?" Draven finished. Allans eyes were lowered to the floor so he could not determine a reaction. When they lifted, a strange light shone in them, one that Draven had hoped to see. It was protective fury.

"Where is he and how soon can we get there!"

Draven smiled.

"Right away, my escort can take us to London where the League have stationed." He stood up and walked out of the building, Quatermain hot on his heels. One thought occupied Draven's mind.

May any man who threatens the protégé of Allan Quatermain have mercy on his soul.

* * *

Tom slowly opened his green eyes, wincing at the elephant parade pounding behind them. His neck hurt as if it was nobodies business, and he had a very seasick feeling of fast movement. 'Am I back on the Nautilus?' He wondered, waiting for his eyesight to clear, and he could determine where he was. 

He was upside down. That much he knew, from the blood pounding in his skull. Half of him was upside down, and he was lying on something, held in place by some kind of strap on his back. It was an arm. He was draped over someones shoulder. He could see his carriers belt and legs, but not the floor. It was moving by fast, very fast. His stomach suddenly rebelled at the view and he needed to be sick. Tom clenched his teeth and tried to break free of his captors grip. To be on his own feet, not moving at this ridiculous speed…Which brought on the question in Tom's mind. How was this speed capable on foot?

His stomach held no more, and he emptied the contents on the back of his captors legs with a loud groan. His captor didn't even slow! Tom closed his eyes again, the blood pumping louder in his head, and his nerves on fire at his squirming.

A tingle in his arm caught his attention. It was squashed against his captor. The tingle grew, until it became pins and needles, and became extremely uncomfortable. His other arm felt fine, it hung next to his head. Tom wriggled his fingers, smiling at the lack of pain he experienced. An idea formed in his head, moving his arm wouldn't alert his captor any, and he figured he could reach up to his holsters and take out his Colt.

Moving slowly so as not to distract any attention (even though being sick on the captor wasn't distracting.) Tom carefully bent his arm and reached into his left holster, gripping the handle for his handgun. Praising some God that it hadn't fallen out, with this jolting ride he was on.

Tom watched the world in front, upside down. Although his Captor's leg blocked most of the view, and that white papery thing stuck to the side. Naturally curious, Tom held on to his gun with his thumb and forefinger, and snatched the white paper with his other fingers.

Putting his finger cautiously on the trigger, Tom dropped his arm back down to his head, gripping the gun and paper tightly in his closed hand.

The floor was a dark grey. Flashes of colour showing litter, or a childs toy. He reckoned he was on a street in London still. Tom aimed his gun at the back of his captors legs, aiming to shoot when it was furthest back, if he missed the bullet could ricochet and hit him. Lifting his head up and straining his sore neck Tom fired.

His timing was perfect. The bullet went straight through his captors leg. Immediately causing him to slow down. Tom yelped as he was thrown off the shoulder, landing hard on the stone floor. Staring up at his captor and remembering him as the bank robber.

"Heh." Tom smirked. The Agent was ignoring him, choosing to hop on one leg and curse for the moment. Tom grabbed this moment to look at the paper he snatched. It was a letter, he quickly read.

Moore Enterprise

William's Lane

New York

America

Hearing the other Agent begin to recover Tom stashed the letter half under a nearby clod of earth.

"You brat!" The Agent yelled. Storming up to Tom and kicking him in the head. Tom fell to the side, one hand immediately reaching to feel his face. The boot had caught him on the cheek bone, and Tom suspected it to be broken, it felt that way. A small trickle of blood met his hand and Tom pulled it away. His eyes met the Agents and he glared. "That's the second time, you've shot me boy. I don't take kindly to it." The Agent warned him coldly.

"Who are you! What do you want with me!" Tom snarled. His cheek slowly beginning to swell up.

"I'm an Agent, working for my employer. And, my employer will soon be your employer, to answer your second question."

"Whats your name?" Tom asked quietly. The man laughed.

"What use is that? Knowing my name will mean nothing. It's Taylor though. Stephen Taylor. Now do you recognise me?" Tom widened his eyes slightly. He had heard of Stephen Taylor. Fired by the Secret Service for murdering a rebellious prisoner. "Now boy… you wanna know what it feels like to be shot?" One of the two rifles that had been carried in Taylor's other hand lowered, and pointed at Tom's chest. The movement was so quick Tom didn't even register it until he felt the metal on his skin. Gulping he met Taylor's eyes. Trying not to show fear as he gazed up at his soon to be killer.

A roar carried by the wind met the two Agent's ears. Sawyer felt a slight wash of relief, although not enough to calm his rapidly beating heart. Taylor groaned.

"I can't kill you anyway, The boss says I'm not allowed." Tom's sigh of relief was short lived. "However, I can still repay you back."

With that a bullet fired out of Taylor's black Winchester and flew the short distance towards Tom's shoulder. Passing straight through, leaving a cry of pain and splatter of blood behind.

* * *

Skinner groaned mid-search of an alley when he heard Tom's rifle fire. The lad was no doubtedly on his own, and in trouble no less. He cast his black trench coat and trilby aside of the alley and set off running in the direction of the sharp noise and his friend. 

Whilst running Skinner strained his ears for any sign of Hyde, Mina or even Nemo. There was none. He dived down a small side alley for a short cut, he knew London's alleys like the back of his hand – when it was still visible to him of course. There had been no other sound since Sawyer had fired his gun, that meant one of three things to Skinner. 1. Sawyer had everything under control and was just taking his time in whistling. 2. Sawyer was still locked in combat with the assailant and could make no further noise, or 3. – the cursed thought - It wasn't Tom who had fired…

Skinner fervently prayed it wasn't option three, he prayed he had never even thought of it since now he couldn't clear his mind of thoughts of a dead Thomas Sawyer. It was something he couldn't bear thinking about. Thankfully he was distracted, a long high pitched whistle echoed through the night – Tom's call to say he was fine and had the criminal. Skinner stopped running, he put his fore fingers in his mouth to reply he was on his way when something knocked the breath out of him from behind.

Ducking silently against the wall and slowing his breathing Skinner narrowed his invisible eyes for the assailant, it didn't take him long to find him. A tall man stood in the centre of the alley, head lifted to an angle as if he was listening to something faint. Skinner suddenly became very worried. This man was the cowboy that robbed the bank! He had the same grey Winchester over his shoulder and wore almost the same outfit as Sawyer. So, if the cowboy was here, what was Tom doing?

A faint cry fell through the night and Skinner clenched his fists. He recognised the voice as Tom's, but he couldn't reply because the cowboy was still stood not 5 feet away. Seemingly satisfied with the cry the cowboy leapt high onto a building and vanished into the night. Skinner was stunned by the actions, no human could manage that leap, yet the Cowboy did, with ease. Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind Skinner shoved his fingers in his mouth and sent out the distress whistle to tell the others to hurry up. He had a feeling they were going to be needed

Smiling grimly when he heard Hyde's bellow from down the streets Skinner set off at a jog to find his lost friend.

5 minutes later he arrived at a grim scene. There was a lot of blood on the floor and one of Sawyers prized handguns. Hyde seemed overly excited.

"Bugger." Skinner cursed, running to the pool of blood and the lone Colt lying in it. Hyde stared at him, somehow the beast could always sense where Skinner was, a fact that unnerved him and felt robbed him of his power.

"Eh, don't worry, it isn't the Yank's." Hyde told him in that gruff bestial voice. Skinner sighed, it seemed like option number one was more of an obvious choice now, seeing as the shot had hit the other person. But, if that was the case, why did Tom cry out and where was he now?

A flutter of bats told him of Mina's arrival, she too looked very worried until she took a sniff of the blood.

"Not Tom's. Where is he?" She asked, a small bit of red bleeding into her irises at the smell of the blood. Skinner shrugged at her, but then remembered he was invisible. He opened his mouth to answer her verbally.

"That's what the bloody hell I'd like to know!" A gruff voice beat him to it. Skinner whirled around and almost fainted, gripping the wall for support. Before him stood a man he hadn't thought he'd see again. For once in his life Skinner had nothing to say.

Mina's eyes had regained their icy blue colour, and they were open wide. Very wide. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak. Her voice failing her, she just settled for staring.

It was Hyde who broke the silence.

"Well, I thought the smell was yours but passed it off as someone else wearing a sweaty cologne. Welcome back Quatermain." The big man's face broke into a smile. He respected the Hunter most out of the League, since he was the one who actually managed to catch him. Hyde also knew that Allan was the object of envy for quivering Jekyll, who never did have much confidence in himself.

Allan would have enjoyed the surprise reuniting, had it been for an extra member being surprised with them. Not wanting to waste time he asked again.

"Where's Sawyer!" Mina finally shook herself out of the shock, her eyes reduced to their normal size and she glanced at Hyde, who sniffed the air suspiciously.

"We don't kn-" Her voice broke off at the sound of a gunshot. Her ears pricked up. " That was North East." She glanced at the others and prepared her body to change into the more agile bat form. Quatermain narrowed his eyes.

"What are we waiting for? That could be Sawyer!" He ran off into through the alleys, whilst Hyde leapt to the rooftops, followed by a mass of shrieking bats.

Skinner watched them go, his own feet not moving him anywhere.

"I suppose I should go inform Nemo of the situation… Poor guy never knows anything outside of his ship. I wonder what he'll say to the zombie's return from Kenya. Extraordinary Indeed!" He mused to no one in particular, before jogging off in the direction of the ship. Pausing and cursing loudly when another shot echoed through the quiet London streets. 'Don't worry Tom. Quatermain has your back, as well as the League. We'll get you back.' Skinner promised as he turned his jog into a full sprint.

* * *

_I hope you all like this chapter as well, please review!_


	3. Chapter III

**Rogue Agent. Chapter three.**

_Thanks to everyone reading this. Well, this is the third of ten chapters. Hope you all enjoy!_

_Sawyer Fan – Thanks. I took your advice, plus everyone likes father/son ness. Hope you enjoy!_

_Little wing – wow thanks, sorry about the wait for this chapter, My internet messes up a lot as well after I actually manage to write the chapters!_

_Tonianne – wow. Thank you. Hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Ten Mara – they might find Tom sooner than you think, but that doesn't mean they'll get him back! Thanks for the review!_

_WL496 and GS623 – you'll have to read to find out :P thanks for the review._

_Disclaimer: I don't own LXG! Wish I did.

* * *

_

The steel tap tap of Richard Moore's footsteps followed him down the long corridor. Doors passing by him quickly as he marched smugly down to the Doctor's office. When he reacher the door he needed, he paused to shuffle his blue tie and flick lint off his black suit. Satisfied with that Richard Moore rapped smartly on the door.

The person who opened it wore a dull pink lab coat which had once been white, except years of bloody experiments had dyed it. The woman (for it was a woman) had black hair tied back in a loose pony tail and wore thick rimmed glasses on her pale face. She didn't say a word as she stepped aside to let Moore into her laboratory, just glared at him.

"Ah, Kison, I'm here to, ah, check up on your progress." Moore anounced in a business like manner. Dr Kison shut the door and followed him, shuffling quickly across the tiled floor.

"This way." Kison didn't even acknowledge if Moore was following as she shuffled through the labs, and into an office at the end. Moore stared after her, then smirked and followed.

"How is the drug holding out?" He asked as he seated himself in one of Kison's chairs at her desk. Kison sat down at the opposite side of the desk.

"The recent tests I performed last night proved to be the biggest break through we have had yet. Number 76932 became stable after three doses, our quickest time yet. Although that may have been because he was of a light build and already agreed to most of our agendas. We are looking forward to our next specimen…When did you say it's arriving?" Kison eyed him over her large glasses. Moore took a while to answer her, as he wondered what she meant.

"Specimen? Oh you mean the new Agent! Taylor should be bringing him in soon, provided he doesn't run into any obstacles. He snatched the Agent from the legendary League of Extraordinar-"

"I know who it is friends with! Why do you think I was so eager to have it as our next Agent." Dr Kison cut him off brusquely.

"So, you'll have the drug ready for him then?" he asked curiously. Kison nodded as she stepped smartly to the door and held it open.

"Of course. I have every single part of the operation organised already. When Agent Sawyer gets here, we can waste no time in converting him to our side. As no doubt Agent 76504 - or Taylor as you call it – will lead them right here." Moore pulled himself off the chair, his meetings with Dr Kison never did last long, as she quickly ran out of patience with him.

As soon as Richard Moore was out of the laboratories and Kison's sight he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Opening it he pulled out an old faded photograph of two boys.

"I'll finish what you started James, don't you worry about that."

* * *

Torment. The first word that sprung to mind regarding Tom's situation. Torment and agony. Agony because of the seering pain that shot through his shoulder every time his kidnapper took a long stride. Torment at the blinding light that burned his eyes, aggravated his pounding headache but yet he couldn't see anything but the ground. Tom had been shot before, it hurt like hell the first time, but this? This was much much worse!

He had been slung over Taylor's shoulder as he was too weak and stubborn to walk to his doom. The Agent had growled, and, faster than Tom could comprehend, strode the short distance towards him and brought the barrel of his Winchester down on the back of his head.

Tom had awoken a short time later, though he wished he hadn't, and had been awed at the unnatural capabilities his kidnapper posessed. They were on the rooftops of London, and Tom presumed that the distances between them were about 7 or 8 feet. Yet the Agent had sailed over them easily, plus with the weight of Tom on his back.

Nothing could describe the extraordinary feats Taylor performed, he had been running for a few hours straight, and wasn't even breathless or showing any signs of fatigue. Something which Tom cursed more than anything, as every other step caused him severe pain. He wasn't sure how much more he could take…

Taylor leapt effortlessly over another building, the landing jolting Tom and throwing his head back. After hours of staring at the blurry moving floor he welcomed the glimpse of the rising sun. They were moving towards the outskirts of London, from what he could tell. The tightly packed buildings were growing further and further apart, and he glimpsed one or two trees.

Unexpectedly, Taylor stopped running. For which Tom was thankful. He was heaved on the Agent's shoulder and dropped onto the ground. With a groan of pain he rolled over and took a long look at his kidnapper. Taylor had a tanned face, with strong American cheekbones and dark bushy eyebrows. His hair, from what Tom could see below the hat, was black and curly. His hazel eyes were cold and unemotional, the eyes of a man who lived an unfeeling life.

Taylor sat on the edge of a rooftop and pulled something out of his pocket. Tom saw that it was a syringe with a bright blue mixture in it. His kidnapper rolled up his sleeve and injected it into his arm, opposite his elbow. Tom realised the distraction and tested his mobility.

His right shoulder throbbed and sent pulsing waves of pain when he tried to move his arm, and his cheekbone had swollen up considerably. Tom grimaced at the pain, his legs were in good working order, he measured the distance it would take from his spot to the ladders that must lead off the roof, and how long it would take to climb down with one arm.

Worrying a little at how low the chances were of pulling this feat off Tom half shrugged it off with a splash of American optimism. Anything was better than not attempting.

He scrambled to his feet and lightly jogged to the edge of the roof, eyes on his capturer at all times. Upon reaching the ladder Tom cast another furtive look at Taylor, who was preoccupied with the after effects of whatever he injected. The League member quickly and silently slid off the roof and onto the ladder, taking a great effort not to move his right arm.

Inch by inch Tom climbed down. Knowing that any second now his rescuer could realise his disappearence fueled him against any second thoughts. Amazingly he got to the floor without being recaptured, Tom grinned and turned around, ready to finish his escape…

And faced Taylor.

* * *

Thoughts were rushing through Mina's head like a forest fire. Quartermain was alive! But what had happened to Tom? She watched the aging man jog in front of her, following the great beast Hyde, who was in turn following the sweet scent of Sawyers blood.

Why hadn't Quartermain done anything to tell them he wasn't dead? It had been 4 months since, she knew for a fact that Tom had torn himself up inside about the hunter's death. Although, she sensed something different about the leader of the League… A feeling of worry, as she noted the increasing lines on his care worn face. Their leader seemed so much older than he was before. This concerned Mina.

Hyde stopped running, allowing Allan and Mina to catch up with him.

"What is it?" Allan asked, out of breath. Hyde sniffed the air then turned to answer.

"They took to the rooftops, for a while it seems. I think you had best follow from down here, I shall tell you if I find anything." Mina nodded, eyes locked on the doctor as he leapt onto the roof and continued running, his huge arms swinging from side to side.

Mine allowed herself to switch to her bat forms, so she could switch from rooftops back to Quartermain, keeping sure that he was heading in the right way. About an hour of keeping like this, Mina noted that Quartermain was looking very flushed. He needed to stop running. She flew back up to Hyde to tell him to rest for a while when she found that he already had.

About to question the reason, Mina suddenly reeled from the strong scent of blood. Tom's blood.

"You might want to get Quartermain. He will no doubt want to know." Hyde told her. Mina leant over the edge of the roof and whistled to Allan, signalling that they had found something.

He clambered up a nearby fire exit onto the roof, panting and gulping deep breaths.

"You found something?" He questioned, not having noticed the pool of blood in the centre, near to some rubbish. Mind didn't say anything. Just looked towards Tom's blood. Allan followed her gaze and gasped.

"Toms?" Hyde nodded. Allan walked over to the blood, and knelt by the side.

"There is another scent in the blood, the same as where we found Tom's pistol." Mina told him, Allan smiled a little.

"Tom won't go down without a fight. Typical…" He trailed off, having noticed a white sheet of paper, stuffed part way under the rubbish. He reached over and pulled it out.

Mina and Hyde watched curiously as Allans face paled, his hand clasped tightly on the paper.

"What is it Mr Q?" Mina asked quietly. Allan didn't acknowledge her.

"He was right. My god he was right. We need to find Sawyer quickly!" Allan stood up, and finally noticed Mina and Hyde's questioning looks. He handed the letter over to Mina who read it out loud, both for her benefit and Hyde's.

_Agent Taylor,_

_As you are no doubt aware Project Rogue Agent needs new recruits for it to work. We have found a new Agent who will undoubtedly be invalueable to our cause. Special Agent Thomas Sawyer from the American Secret Service has been classified as R.A after his departure to remain with the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. This will no doubt be the most difficult collection mission you will undertake, as Sawyer will have the League with him at all times._

_You will collect him in London, get attention to yourself and our other Agent will make sure the League arrive. There is a checkpoint at the docks on East London, make sure you are there with Sawyer, without being followed. We cannot let the League know of our existence before we are ready for them._

_Various methods of persuasion are allowed to make Sawyer cooperate, just **do not kill him**._

_Finally, to aid you in your task we will provide two doses of BM._

_Do not fail us._

_R. Moore._

Mina stared at the letter in her hand. It was all planned! They were here for Sawyer and the League practically gave them to him! Rushes of guilt swept through Mina as she remembered pairing Sawyer and Skinner together to search the streets. She should have known that they would separate! Her hair started to grow wavy and her eyes began tinting red.

Allan sighed, he stared at the pool of blood and wondered about the "various methods of persuasion." He didn't know what to do next. They'd lost Tom! Lost him to ruthless inhuman Agents. He sat back down and stared into space.

"Quartermain. It's not over yet. We can still catch the Agent at the docks, if we hurry and not sit moping." Hyde interjected. Mina raised an eyebrow at him, knowing that that was Jekyll talking.

"The docks aren't too far away from here, but, how long will your potion last Hyde?" Mina replied.

"I have another vial in my pocket… I think we should use the Nemomobile though, we'll be quicker" Hyde added seeing Mina's subtle nod in Allan's direction.

"I do _not _need some automobile to get around!" Quartermain roared, realising what Mina was implying. "If Sawyer is in danger we need to go now! And not what around for Nemo."

"Ah now Mr Quartermain, you will not have to wait around for me. I am already here." Nemo's voice drifted up to the roof. Mina smiled at the timely arrival. Then together the three climbed/jumped/flew down off the roof.

Nemo was waiting in his Nemomobile, a trench coat and trilby beside him.

"Heh, thankful that one of us had a bit of foresight!" Skinner said proudly. Everyone ignored him.

"I may not be as quick a driver as Sawyer but I created this car so I should be able to drive it farely well. Where are we headed?" Nema asked.

"The eastern docks. Hurry!" Mina told him. They all piled into the car and Nemo set off.

* * *

_Sorry about the wait. I kept on questioning whether my writing was any good, and couldn't write. This is the third attempt at this chapter and personally I don't think it is good._

_If you leave any comments/flames I would be grateful, more grateful if you leave the former. Thanks _


End file.
